


Stay The Night

by centreoftheselights



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack Pairing, Domestic, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, Open Relationships, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:36:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/centreoftheselights/pseuds/centreoftheselights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how Becky Rosen inherited a house, met a couple of familiar characters, and rapidly lost control of her life in the best possible way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay The Night

**Author's Note:**

> Someone mentioned in passing the possibility of an OT7 between these characters, and approximately two weeks later, I had written this.
> 
> Roll with it.

Becky hadn’t expected to inherit a house. The great-aunt it had belonged to was not so much long-lost as never-heard-of, but a quick check of the family tree had turned up that she was the closest surviving relative. It was completely out of the blue.

But rent on her apartment didn’t come cheap, and freelance technical writing wouldn’t exactly have a long commute wherever she lived, so she thought, why not move in? She packed up her belongings, handed over her last month’s rent, and drove her way to the abandoned manor house on the lonely outskirts of a small town she had never visited before.

In hindsight, she perhaps should have known then that the move would not go entirely smoothly. But then, if it had, things would have turned out very differently to how they did.

 

“I don’t like this.”

“Anna, would you just relax? It’s a salt and burn. We could do it in our sleep.”

“I don’t mean the case. We shouldn’t have time to deal with ghosts right now. We have absolutely no idea what’s going on in Heaven or how we got out of limbo –”

“So we’ll be chasing our tails if we try and find out. We might as well knock one more haunted house off the map before the next group of bored teenagers get themselves into trouble.”

“Jo?”

“Uh huh?”

“You know how you said this place was abandoned?”

“... Okay. Time for plan B.”

 

The Devil’s Trap over the door is obvious enough, but Becky starts to wonder if she’s being paranoid about halfway through salting across every doorway, inside as well as out. The house is big – according to the store owner when she went to town yesterday, it used to be a hotel – and it’s been abandoned for the better part of a decade. There are a lot of rooms, and they are very dusty.

She tries not to worry too much about the cold spots. Old houses get that kind of thing, right? It’s probably just a problem with the heating. Besides, the salt should hold back any vengeful spirits that happen to be hanging around. At least for a while.

... Maybe she should move the iron poker to her bedroom. Just to be on the safe side.

The doorbell makes her jump. It takes her a second to remember which way to go back to the front hallway, and she fumbles for a second when the latch sticks. She finds two women on her doorstep, one blonde and one redheaded, dressed in identical jackets with an unfamiliar logo on.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” says the blonde. “We’re with the gas company.”

Becky takes a deep breath. She is a homeowner. She is a responsible adult. She is _not_ going to fangirl over some unsuspecting gas company employees because she happens to have the books on her mind and this is startlingly close to how Sam and Dean infiltrate people’s homes.

These two aren’t hunters. The gas company gambit only works because people from gas companies really do this kind of thing. Hadn’t she been wondering about the heating?

“We were wondering, have you noticed anything strange since you moved in?”

“What kind of strange?” Becky asks, because she can’t phrase it as ‘cold spots,’ not if she wants to be taken seriously.

“Unusual odours,” the redhead suggests. “Electrical interference. Cold spots.”

It’s a coincidence. She’s letting her imagination get the better of her.

“There are a few cold patches,” she admits. “And a smell, what’s it called...”

“Sulphur – like rotten eggs?” the blonde suggests. “Or perhaps... ozone?”

Okay. No freaking way is this a coincidence.

“I knew it!” she tries not to shriek too loud, but the women still wince. “You’re hunters, right? I knew this place was haunted! It probably would have got me last night if it weren’t for the salt circle...”

The two exchange a look, and the blonde raises an eyebrow. “I think we’d better come inside.”

 

They go through to the kitchen. There are remarkably few cardboard boxes, mostly because Becky’s old apartment never had room for more than a couple of saucepans and crockery for one. Nothing she’s brought with her seems like enough in this house – she’s too used to tight spaces and close neighbours. This house echoes.

“So how do you know about hunting?” the redhead asks.

“The Winchesters,” Becky answers.

“You know Sam and Dean?” the blonde sounds shocked.

“Yeah I –” Becky’s about to claim that she’s worked cases with them, but she bites it back just in time. She needs to stop exaggerating about the Winchesters, to herself as much as to other people. Besides, these two might actually _know_ Sam and Dean.

“I’ve met them a couple of times,” she says instead. “But I mostly know them through the books. You know, Supernatural? By Chuck Shurley?”

“The prophet dude,” the blonde nods. “So, you always put salt circles down before you sleep?”

Becky nods. “I’ve had some trouble with demons before. The first thing I did when I moved in was draw a Devil’s Trap under the doormat.”

She gets an approving nod for that. “So, Miss...?”

“Becky Rosen.”

“Becky,” a flash of a smile. “Since you know so much about this kind of thing, you probably realise it’s best to leave it to the professionals.”

“No way.” She sets her jaw. “I know how to handle myself. Besides, I don’t even know who you to are.”

The blonde smiles a little wider. “The name’s Jo. Jo –”

“Harvelle,” Becky says with her.

She is not going to freak out. She is going to take a deep breath, and not scream, because Jo freaking Harvelle is in her kitchen. Jo, who was kind of an irritating kid at first, and _so_ obviously crushing on Dean which was a _terrible_ idea, but then came back into the books years later all grown up, and Abandon All Hope had Becky in floods of tears –

“Wait,” Becky says slowly, trying to find a tactful way to put it – because even she has enough social awareness to know that ‘I cried for days after reading about Carthage’ isn’t appropriate in this situation – “I thought you were...”

“It’s a long story.” Jo doesn’t look particularly eager to tell it. “But yeah, I came back. You can read all about it in the next book.”

Okay, resurrection Becky can deal with. But, wait –

“The books stopped years ago,” she corrects. “Chuck only wrote up until the Apocalypse getting averted, and then he just – vanished. I didn’t even know Sam was out of Hell until his doppelganger made the evening news last year...”

Jo meets her partner’s eyes, and there’s a significant look.

“Sorry,” Becky says, wishing she was less awkward. “I’m afraid I still don’t know your name...”

“Anna,” the redhead says. “Anna Milton.”

Becky takes a deep breath, and tries to remember her manners.

“Are you okay?” Jo asks. “You’ve gone kind of –”

“You tried to kill Sam!” Becky is shocked by how high-pitched her own voice goes.

Jo rolls her eyes, and Anna places her hands on her hips. Her expression is completely calm.

“I tried to avert the Apocalypse,” she states. “It was the best plan available at the time. Stopping Michael and Lucifer required a sacrifice to be made.”

“But –”

“I’ve already made my peace with the Winchesters over this.”

Jo smirks a little. “Unless you’ve got an AK47 lying around, Dean probably beat you to it.”

Anna glares at her. “I apologised. Sam was very forgiving.”

Of course he was, Becky thinks. He would be. But, since he was, she can be too. And she’ll try very hard not to think about any of the things she ever called Anna in the forums.

“See, we’re professionals,” Jo summarises. “We’ve been doing this for a long time. We can definitely handle one restless spirit.”

Becky pouts. “I can help,” she protests. This is one thing she knows how to do, and opportunities like this don’t come along often.

It doesn’t sound convincing even to her own ears. Anna and Jo don’t look impressed, so she straightens up and tries again.

“This isn’t my first rodeo.”

They exchange another one of those loaded looks.

“Fine,” Jo says. “You can be our back-up.”

Becky beams.

“But you’d better not get in the way.”

 

Five hours later, they’re all covered in dirt and blood and ectoplasm when they traipse back up the stairs from the basement. Becky tosses her poker back towards the fireplace, making a mental note to get a replacement soon – it had been quite effective, right up until that second spirit tossed her so hard it bent through ninety degrees. She also notes that next time she moves into a house, she’s going to check for skeletons in the closet first. Especially the literal kind.

When she turns back to the hall, Jo and Anna are standing close together, speaking quietly. Jo’s hand is on Anna’s arm, and Becky takes a moment to be disappointed. On the few occasions she dipped into femslash, she’d always preferred Annaby – but this ship is clearly so canon it hurts.

“You deserve to be here as much as I do,” Jo is saying. “We got pulled out together.”

“But why?” Anna asks. “Do you have any idea what kind of power would it take to open a portal to limbo?”

“A demigod,” Becky answers, and they both look around in surprise, and Jo pulls her hand away like Anna’s skin burns.

“A what?” she asks.

“The child of a deity,” Becky explains. “They’re the only ones who can open limbo. At least according to the books I have upstairs.”

“We need to see those books,” Anna insists.

“In an hour,” Jo argues. “I need to shower before I do anything.”

“You could borrow one of mine,” Becky suggests. “I mean, this place has dozens of bedrooms and bathrooms. You could stay here tonight, if you wanted.”

Jo shrugs. “Saves checking into a motel. Just point me to the hot water.”

 

When Becky steps out of her bedroom, Anna is waiting across the hallway with a piercing stare. She doesn’t speak until Becky has dug through the boxes housing her collection of occult books, and found the tome with reference to limbo in. Anna devours the passage eagerly, then flips back to review the entire chapter, humming slightly under her breath.

It takes about five minutes for Jo to arrive, wet-haired and blinking.

“This is quite a collection.”

“I wanted to know what was out there,” Becky explains. Practical application might not be her strong point, but knowledge is something she can arm herself with.

“Any good news?” Jo asks Anna. Anna glances up with a slight frown, and Jo winces. “Of course not.”

“We need to get back to Michigan,” Anna says seriously. “As soon as possible.”

She places the book on the table, strides over to Jo, and they vanish.

It’s only when she reaches her bedroom that Becky realises that their car is still parked in her driveway.

 

Becky is woken by a loud crashing sound from the next room at about three o’clock the next morning. She leaps out of bed at the sound, grabs the salt shaker off the dresser, and races into the hall.

Jo is staggering under Anna’s weight, trying to drag her limp form through the doorway. Anna’s face is as pale as the ghosts they were fighting earlier, and there’s a long trickle of blood down Jo’s cheek.

“Get her in here,” Becky orders, ducking under Anna’s other arm and leading the way to the nearest free bedroom, one of the two she’d made up before going to sleep, when she realised that Jo and Anna would probably be coming back. She tries not to notice that Anna’s skin is frozen cold, and she can’t hear the angel breathing.

They manhandle her onto the bed before Becky asks.

“Is she -?”

“She’s fine,” Jo snaps, a little fast, but now that Anna’s still Becky can just see the rise and fall of her chest. “Exhaustion. Could have been worse.”

Becky’s desperate to know what happened, but Jo can hardly talk in complete sentences, and the blood on her face looks fresh.

“Let me take a look at that.”

“It’s fine.”

“Sit down,” Becky insists, as forcefully as she can, and leaves for the first aid box. When she returns, Jo is slumped in one of the chairs, watching Anna sleep. She doesn’t so much as move as Becky approaches, not until she’s close enough to touch.

Jo pushes her hair back where it’s matted to her cheek, and Becky can see the wound clearly. It’s shallow, but long and jagged along Jo’s hairline, and it’s still bleeding pretty fast. She pours some disinfectant onto a cloth, but hesitates.

“This is probably going to sting.”

Jo doesn’t react, and as Becky cleans the gash, she doesn’t so much as wince.

“We got lucky,” Jo says quietly. “Good luck doesn’t last forever.”

“But it’s a lot better than bad,” Becky tells her, and for the first time, Jo makes eye contact.

“Well,” she says. “I guess there’s that.”

 

Anna wakes up later that morning, a little before lunchtime. Jo spends that entire morning dozing by her bedside, and so the first Becky knows of the development is a low, intense conversation which periodically erupts into shouting.

“ _Dammit_ , you can’t just –”

“There isn’t _time_ –”

“Do you _really_ think –?”

There’s a long silence after that, and Becky is just beginning to wonder if that old trope of making out in the middle of an argument is more accurate that she’d given it credit for, when suddenly a crash of footsteps thunder down the stairs, and the front door slams.

Becky ventures upstairs slowly, and finds Anna sitting up in bed.

“Jo went for a walk,” she explains quietly. “Thank you for your hospitality. My grace should have healed enough for us to leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, uh – good.” Becky hasn’t really thought about the two of them leaving. The entire day has been too surreal to process; the thought that everyday life still exists is something she is only abstractly aware of.

“But, uh –” Becky can’t stop herself from asking. “What’s _happening_?”

Anna sighs, as though the question causes her physical pain.

“The end of the world.”

Becky rolls her eyes. “Well, obviously. But why did you disappear off to Michigan?”

 Anna blinks, and starts to explain. When she’s done – when Becky knows about limbo and the Ark and the Boreads and all of it – she stares at Becky with what can only be called contrition.

“I shouldn’t have returned us here,” she says. “I don’t think they’ll be able to track us, but it’s a possibility. I’ve put you at risk.”

Becky grits her teeth. “No.”

Anna half-smiles. “No?”

“I want to help,” Becky says. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. If you need somewhere to go, you can come here. And I’ll – do research, or answer phones or – _anything_. I just – could you please tell me where to _start_?”

“Research sounds good.” They both start as Jo appears in the doorway. “You got anything in that library of yours about Borealis?”

Becky purses her lips. “I don’t know. But I can look...”

 

The next day, Anna can barely walk unaided, and Jo bites her lip whenever Anna isn’t looking, so Becky insists they stay for a second night, until no-one looks ready to pass out. But eventually, they have to go. Becky gets given a phone number to call if she ever finds anything interesting.

It’s less than a fortnight before she tracks down some obscure book which might be a lead, and even down the cell phone she can hear Jo’s smile. A week after that, they stop through overnight to save finding a motel on the way to a hunt. Within three months, Becky’s got spare towels on standby and an extra line for ‘emergencies,’ and if she screams a little after the first time she impersonates an FBI agent then well, who’s around to hear?

It’s about six months after their first meeting that Becky next gets really, honestly taken by surprise.

Jo and Anna are visiting, and for once neither of them is seriously injured and there’s no imminent threat to the existence of the continent. It’s just shore leave, the three of them sat around the kitchen table sharing stories of ghosts and ghouls and uncooperative editors.

Becky excuses herself to go to the bathroom, and she starts wondering if there are any femslash communities still live out there who might like to know that, from the way these two are looking at each other, they’ve finally gotten over the eternal pre-slash phase, and it’s about time too and wait why is there someone in the hall?

She turns around, and the dark-haired woman in the doorway folds her arms.

“You know,” she says. “I consider this racist.”

Becky refuses to scream.

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus...” she begins loudly.

She hears a chair being knocked over in the kitchen as Anna and Jo race through to see what’s happening. Anna pauses in the doorway, staring at the demon.

“Hey, feathers.” It smiles. “Long time no see. Wanna call off the hounds?”

“Becky, stop,” Anna says quietly, and Becky trusts her enough to bite her tongue. She’s not happy about it, though – and judging from Jo’s face as she finally pushes past Anna, she isn’t the only one who disapproves.

“Ruby,” Jo says, on the verge of a snarl.

Becky’s jaw drops.

“I figured it was about time to get the team back together.” Ruby holds up a carrier bag. “I brought drinks.”

This can’t be happening.

Anna steps forwards and breaks the Devil’s Trap. Jo’s frowning, but she doesn’t stop her.

The demon that jump-started the Apocalypse is standing in Becky’s front hallway. She brought whiskey.

And Becky can’t think of a single non-awkward way to say “So, you slept with Sam Winchester. What was that like?”

 

It turns out, after a few quick shots and leading questions, that the three women made it out of limbo together, but Ruby disappeared “below decks” as soon as they got topside.

“Everything’s a mess nowadays,” she says with a scowl. “But we’ve got a handle on things. You won’t be having any demon problems for a long time.”

Anna seems pretty enthusiastic to have Ruby back. She’s smiling and reminiscing and generally sending out waves of homoerotic subtext.

Jo doesn’t seem too pleased about any of it. And since Becky’s never exactly been a Ruby fangirl, she doesn’t feel too bad quietly taking sides.

It’s getting late, and the whiskey’s getting low, when Becky suddenly looks around and realises Anna and Ruby have disappeared. There are footsteps on the stairs, and the distinct sound of Ruby’s laughter.

Beside her, Jo is staring at the floorboards like she wants to shoot something.

“I can’t –” Becky observes, not sure how to finish the thought.

“I can’t.” The meme makes her giggle, and Jo looks across at her with a smile.

“You’re drunk,” she tells Becky. “You’re going to regret this in the morning.”

Becky attempts to get to her feet, but stumbles and nearly collapses. Jo stands, catching her.

“You can, though,” Becky adds.

“Uh-huh,” Jo says. “What can I do?”

“Anything.”

Becky’s not quite sure how it happens, but somehow their lips press together and they’re kissing. It makes her smile, which makes her pull away. She reaches up a hand, and presses a finger to Jo’s lips.

“OTP,” she says, wisely.

Jo laughs. “Come on, Becks. Let’s get you to bed.”

 

The next morning, Becky finds she remembers far too much, and she can’t make sense of any of it.

 

Neither she nor Jo mention the kiss the next day, or for several weeks afterwards. Anna and Jo continue to hunt together and drop by when they have the time. A couple of visits later, Becky accidentally walks in on them kissing, Jo’s hands up Anna’s shirt while Anna fumbles at her buttons. They start when they notice her, put don’t pull apart, just wait for her to close the door. When she’s safely back in her room, Becky finds herself grinning and whispers to herself: “It’s _canon_.”

After that they drop all pretence of sleeping in separate bedrooms.

At least, when Ruby isn’t around. She shows up out of the blue, at first only when Anna’s around, apparently just so the two of them can sit a hair too close and laugh a hair too loudly while Jo and Becky make conversation which is just the tiniest bit awkward. Becky always excuses herself early on those evenings, glad that at least she knows Ruby isn’t there for her.

Then one morning, Anna and Jo head out, and Ruby’s still there, polishing off last night’s chips like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Before long she just starts appearing on Becky’s doorstep when Anna is hundreds of miles away, expecting to be let in. For some reason, Becky lets her. It’s easier to just ignore her than to try and process that there’s a demon on her couch, watching her Gilmore Girls DVDs.

Becky gets used to having her around, even though they rarely discuss anything less pressing than ‘could you pass the salsa.’ Every so often, they’ll watch a movie together, or Ruby will crack open a book to help with whatever she’s researching. It’s like having an uninvited roommate.

Ruby starts using Jo’s old bedroom. Even when she’s not slept there for weeks, she _always_ leaves clothes lying around. Becky, compulsively tidy about her own belongings, finds she doesn’t mind. It makes the place look lived in.

The only real time they argue is after the first time Ruby brings a stranger over. The girl’s voice is soft and alien, whispering and giggling and shrieking in the middle of the night. Becky puts her pillow over her ears and tries to ignore it, but the next morning she tells Ruby straight.

“This is my house, and you can’t bring booty calls back here!” she explains. “I don’t care what you do just – not under my roof.”

Ruby smirks too knowingly, and agrees. But she can’t seem to resist a parting shot.

“Jealous?”

Becky glares, and wishes she had a decent comeback.

Ruby laughs.

“Don’t worry,” she says, stepping in close enough that Becky can smell her shampoo. “You don’t need to be.”

 For a moment, Becky’s breath catches in her throat, and she can’t think. But then Ruby smiles and walks away, leaving Becky entirely unsure what just happened.

She’s beginning to get used to that feeling.

 

It’s a couple of days before Becky’s birthday that everything changes. Ruby’s away – off on one of those weeks-long unexplained absences that occasionally result in unusual and vicious looking injuries – and it’s just the three of them, researching a possible case in Iowa.

Becky’s mastering the Google fu while Jo and Anna consult the library, but when she emerges from a particularly fascinating article about mandrakes, she’s not surprised to find that her companions have been distracted from the texts at hand.

Several months have passed since Anna and Jo have made any attempt to hide their relationship, and Becky is well used to passing touches, appreciative looks, and the occasional snatched kiss. But this is a different matter altogether. Anna and Jo seem to have entirely forgotten her presence, which can probably be explained by the way Jo is straddling Anna’s lap as their lips press together. Jo’s head tips back slightly, her eyes closed as Anna mouths a slow line along her neck, and Becky’s face grows warm in a way which cannot be solely attributed to proxy embarrassment.

She should leave, she knows that. But first, she has to tear her eyes away.

Anna pauses with her face against Jo’s neck, and says quietly: “Enjoying the show?”

Becky freezes, as Jo’s eyes open and turn to her. A moment too late, she turns her gaze back to the laptop, trying to pretend she’s still reading.

“She said,” Jo says louder. “Are you enjoying the show?”

“Who me?” Becky’s voice squeaks with guilt.

Anna smiles against Jo’s stomach. “I really hope you’re enjoying yourself...”

“... or we’re all gonna be pretty bashful at breakfast tomorrow,” Jo finishes.

Becky’s mind jumps to an idea which makes her flush bright red. She chides it for doing so, and searches for the alternate meaning there, but finds that there isn’t one.

“But – you two –” She stutters. “You _can’t_ be -?”

“I believe the term is ‘OT3,’” Anna says.

Oh. Apparently they can.

A small part of Becky’s mind objects that isn’t she into _guys_ , but frankly if there’s one thing her fannish life has trained her for it’s dealing with a sudden and unexpected crisis of sexuality, and besides, she just got offered a threesome with two incredibly hot women so her brain can _shut_ _up_.

“What do you say?” Jo asks, and for the first time Becky realises that she looks a little nervous. The two of them had clearly planned this, and if she had any intention of saying no, this little scene could end very badly for their friendship.

It suddenly occurs to Becky that she’s very glad it’s not going to. She would hate to lose Jo and Anna as friends.

“There was never a hunt in Iowa, was there?” she asks.

Anna shakes her head slowly. “Nothing on the radar at all.”

“Great!” Becky smiles. “Then we have plenty of time on our hands...”

 

For her last three birthdays, Becky has woken up alone and far too early in the morning, perhaps after having seen the day in without noticing as she scrolled down her Tumblr dash until long after midnight.

This year, as the day ticks over to the anniversary of her birth, she finds herself tangled in the sheets, listening to Jo growl a stream of filthy suggestions in her ear as Anna does something highly improbable – yet incredibly effective – with her wings.

It is, to say the least, an improvement.

 

The crash back to Earth arrives two days later, when Anna and Jo spot the telltale lunar kill pattern of a werewolf in Nevada. It’s far from the first time they’ve left that way – in fact, it’s surprising they managed to stay so long without finding a monster to chase. But this time, Becky watches them drive away with a tight ball of emotion weighing in her stomach like lead.

Strangely, it isn’t desperation she feels, although that’s an ache she’s familiar with. There’s no tight grab of abandonment making her pulse spike, or even the sting of jealousy that they have each other on the road and she’s left waiting here alone. Hunting isn’t about having fun, and she knows – with a certainty that takes her by surprise – that they will return when they can.

If they can.

That’s the fear which grips her now, and holds her heart in a vice. Hunting has already taken their lives once apiece, but they won’t ever stop. She sees it in their eyes, they don’t know how to not help people. It’s amazing, but it also puts them in harm’s way, and no amount of telling herself that they will watch each other’s backs can quell the worry that this is the time one of them doesn’t come back.

Isn’t that how the story goes? Once you find each other, you have to lose each other again.

They’ve been gone five days when Becky hears the scrape of the key in the front door. She hurries down the stairs two at a time, only to find Ruby waiting for her on the doorstep.

“Care to let me in?” she asks. She’s cradling a deep cut along the inside of her arm, and blood drips through her fingers onto the floorboards.

“What happened?” Becky gasps, and Ruby looks surprised.

“You sure you want to know?” she asks.

Becky realises that for all the bruises and cuts she’s watched Ruby pass by with, she hasn’t once asked that question before.

She straightens her jaw, and scuffs out the Devil’s Trap. “Come through to the kitchen. I’ll help you get cleaned up, and then we can talk.”

Ruby’s splashes a trail down the hall like breadcrumbs left to follow.

Becky pulls the first aid box out of the cupboard. In recent months, it’s become rather better stocked, and she’s complemented it with as much information as the Internet has on dressing wounds. Most of the time, Anna and Jo handle their own first aid before they get back here, but she’s found it’s best to be prepared.

Ruby doesn’t seem surprised that the box is full to overflowing. Becky suspects she’s borrowed the contents herself on occasion, but it’s never been when Becky was there to see.

Becky quickly locates the water bottle and starts cleaning the wound. It’s deep, and still bleeding, although slower than it was. If Becky lived any other kind of life she would be driving Ruby to the hospital right now.

“Why doesn’t it just heal?” she asks.

Ruby forces a smile. “I guess a stint in limbo will really take it out of a girl.” She winces slightly as the first splash of water hits, which probably isn’t a good sign. “Demons don’t really do healing, not like angels. I can hold myself together pretty good, but I can’t make everything neat and shiny. Something like this, most demons would smoke out but – that’s not an option now.”

“Why not?”

Ruby looks surprised. “Whatever pulled me out of limbo stuck me to this meatsuit for good, just like it did the angel.”

This is the first Becky’s heard of it. She tries not to let that show on her face, but she gets the feeling Ruby can see the truth.

“It looks like this is going to need stitches,” Becky tells her, hoping she doesn’t sound nervous. She’s given Anna stitches before once, when she got caught by an angel blade she couldn’t feel from and Jo’s hands had been shaking from shock, but she doesn’t consider that much practise.

Ruby shut her eyes for a moment when the needle first pierces the flesh.

“It was another demon,” she says, and after a moment Becky realises this is the belated answer to her first question, how Ruby got in this state. “It’s always other demons, not humans or angels any more. There’s a war in Hell. Time for new management.”

“What happened to Crowley?” Becky asks quietly.

“He’s old news,” Ruby says. “Of course, _he_ disagrees. Things have gotten a little messy downstairs.”

“So you’re fighting against him?”

“He isn’t exactly big on the Lucifer loyalists.” Ruby comments. Becky, tying off the final stitch, takes pause at that for a second. Sometimes, it’s too easy to forget that the woman who wears odd socks around the house because she never keeps them in matching pairs also released Lucifer from the Cage and set the Apocalypse on track.

“Would you -?” Becky asks before she can stop herself. “Would you do it again, if you had the chance?”

Ruby meets her eyes and smiles slowly. “Does it matter? Unless you’re keeping another Lilith in the attic, there’s never going to be another chance.”

It’s not a ‘no.’ But then, it’s not exactly a ‘yes’ either.

“I guess not,” Becky lies, taping a dressing over the wound.

Ruby watches her for a moment, then runs a hand over the bandage.

“Thanks,” she says. Then: “You got anything to drink around here?”

 

Anna and Jo get back from their hunt the next day, which Ruby seems to deem worthy of getting off the sofa for. They both reach the hallway just as Jo gets the door open, and the first thing Anna notices is Ruby’s arm.

“You’re hurt.” She lays a hand over the messy line of stitches, frowning. “Badly. You should have called me.”

“Relax,” Ruby tells her. “It was nothing Becks and I couldn’t handle.”

Anna looks concerned, but the scar doesn’t fade away under her touch. “You should be more careful.”

“I will when you are,” Ruby responds, pressing a soft kiss to Anna’s lips.

Becky’s blood pounds in her ears, and she doesn’t know how to react. She feels herself turn, and rush up the stairs, and doesn’t stop until the bedroom door is closed behind her.

So.

That –

She –

Uh.

There’s a firm knock on the door, and Jo’s voice calls: “Becky? Can I come in?”

“Yep,” Becky says, so quietly she isn’t sure Jo will have heard her. But Jo enters, and sits beside her one the bed.

“Is this -?” She asks after a moment.

“She’s a demon,” Becky says, because that thought is suddenly big and important in her mind the way it hasn’t been in months, not even after yesterday.

Jo nods seriously. “I trust her.”

Becky looks up sharply, and finds Jo wearing that shadowed expression which is reserved for only one topic.

“This is about limbo.” Jo nods. “Okay.”

She doesn’t ask any more. None of the three talk about their time in limbo willingly, and she’s not sure she wants to know the details of what happened.

“I know this is about you and her,” Jo says. “But it’s true. I’d trust her with my life.” She chuckles. “I’d trust her with you and Anna’s lives.”

 Becky blinks. Jo is her friend, yes, and she’s beautiful and for unknown reason thinks the same of Becky. But Jo and Anna are something far bigger than that, something _epic_. Hearing Jo talk about her that way is just strange.

“You wouldn’t need to,” she points out. “Look – Ruby’s a demon, and Anna’s an angel, and you’re a Hunter and you’re all – in books! And I’m not.”

Jo looks confused. “No, you’re not.”

“I’m not _like_ you.” She waves her hands, trying to explain. “I don’t _help_ people.”

“Since when?” Jo frowns. “You threw us half the hunts we’ve done in the past six months.”

“But I don’t _fight_.”

“You did last month.”

“Only because there were three empusae at the door.”

“And your hex bags deep fried two of them,” Jo reminds her with a smile. “That’s helping people. Research and gathering ingredients. That stuff’s important, and you’re the best I’ve seen in a good while.”

“I just –” Becky’s struggling to find the right words. “Do you ever get the feeling that everything is about to go horribly wrong?”

Jo shrugs. “There are two hot chicks downstairs waiting to make out with us. Roll with it.”

Becky blinks. “I didn’t think – I thought you and Ruby didn’t get along that well.”

Jo smiles mischievously. “What, a girl can’t get a little competitive?”

Oh.

“That, I have _got_ to see.”

It takes Becky’s brain a moment to catch up with what her mouth just said, and when it does, she blushes. “Um, I –”

Jo just grins. “So, ready to come downstairs?”

 

It later turns out that fandom is startlingly short on suggestions for what four women can get up to alone together, and what few it does have – well, Anna happens to glance over Becky’s shoulder in the middle of that research and her only comment is: “That sounds incredibly dangerous.”

Still, although research fails her this once, they manage to find ways of fitting together. It doesn’t hurt that Ruby is _hot_ , and Becky doesn’t think she ever really appreciated that fact until she got to watch her kissing her way down Anna’s breastbone, wearing that languorous smile the whole time, or the way she and Jo ‘compete,’ tongues fighting for control like there’s a prize to be won.

Sometimes Becky winds up being the prize. She isn’t sure when this became her life, but she is definitely going to roll with it.

Life goes on, and not all of it is spent having ridiculous sex. Some nights there are trolls to be argued with and livestreams to be watched at three am. There are hunts to consider, and post-hunt exhaustions, and just plain not-tonights, and everything else that normal life is full of.

Anna and Jo argue about who’s turn it is to cook and go hunting. Ruby leaves her dirty dishes in the wrong place, and sometimes disappears to wherever the armies of Hell need her to be that week. And Becky answers the phones and tracks down impossibly rare amulets and knows that they’ll be back as soon as they can. She trusts them. She even trusts Ruby, although a part of her can hardly believe she’s doing it.

And if maybe, sometimes, she knows she’s still working up the nerve to admit to herself that this might be something more than trust and having fun? Well, there’s time for thoughts like that tomorrow.

 

It’s weirdly peaceful between the four of them, and Becky is just starting to believe it might hold indefinitely when she walks in on a stranger in the bathroom.

She’d spend the night in her own bed with her headphones on, chatting to people in time zones far distant. And Ruby had spent it...

Becky feels nauseous. She doesn’t know whether to scream or cry or punch someone. She _trusted_ Ruby.

The stranger turns around. She’s wearing nothing but one of Ruby’s robes, and when she sees Becky she smiles like a cat.

“Hello,” she says, and then her eyes turn black.

Becky backs out of the room and sprints down the hallway to her room. The demon follows her through the door just as she grabs the salt-loaded shotgun from beside the bed and turns it on the stranger.

“Don’t move,” she warns. “What the hell are you doing in my house?”

Footsteps race down the hallway, and Ruby bursts into the room. “Becky, what -?”

Becky trains the shotgun on her instead. “No hookups,” she reminds Ruby. “That was the rule.”

“Your little girlfriend is getting jealous,” the stranger says.

“Shut up!” Becky tells her.

“Becky, calm down –”

“Don’t tell me to –”

“Let me talk!” Ruby snaps. “Becky, this is my _boss_. She needed a place to stay.”

“I prefer General,” the stranger corrects. “I go by Meg.”

“...Meg Masters?”

Meg grins like a Cheshire cat. “I knew you would have heard of me.”

Becky points the shotgun directly at Meg’s face.

“You set hellhounds on my girlfriend. If you have an explanation for this, you had better talk _fast_.”

“Becky –” Ruby attempts to intercede.

“Dealing with you later,” Becky tells her.

“It was the Apocalypse,” Meg says by way of explanation. “We were on different sides, and I was faster on the draw. But now, the situation has changed.”

“We have a truce,” Ruby explains. “No interfering in Heaven or on Earth, and no deals unless we’re summoned.”

“I got the Winchester seal of approval,” Meg says. “Completely above board.”

Becky’s eyes turn to Ruby, and Ruby sighs. “Yes, Anna and Jo know I’m working for her.”

Becky shuts her eyes for a moment. She doesn’t often do this, but she figures she doesn’t have much option.

“Angel of the Lord Anna Milton, I pray to you,” she thinks. “Meg is at the house. Ruby says you’re okay with her now. If you’re not, and you’re not in the middle of the hunt right now, could you come smite her? I don’t think the salt rounds will actually do much...”

She opens her eyes. Meg puts a hand on one hip, and completely fails to dissolve in holy fire.

Which means either that Ruby’s telling the truth, or that Anna and Jo are in real trouble on the hunt.

Becky lowers the shotgun.

“Get out,” she tells Meg. “I need to talk to Ruby alone.”

Meg waves a sarcastic goodbye as she closes the door.

“Would you put the gun down?” Ruby asks.

Becky’s not a hundred percent sure she’s past the point of wanting to shoot something, but she does so anyway.

She takes a deep breath, and tries to keep her voice steady. “You slept with her.”

“No, I didn’t!” Ruby looks affronted.

“It sure _looked_ like –”

“Yeah, because Meg isn’t like that with everyone,” Ruby spits. “I wouldn’t. I have before –”

Becky purses her lips.

“Oh, like you _wouldn’t_ ,” Ruby comments, and Becky flushes. “Things were different back then. I was in the field, Anna and Jo were on the road. We met up sometimes and had a little fun, but the next morning, that was it. They might have been playing lovebirds, but they never expected me to do the same.”

“So you’re saying this is _my_ –”

“I’m saying _things_ _changed_.” Ruby sighs. “I am trying to make this work. So when I got the call that Meg was looking for a safe house, I let her sleep here. She offered, and I said no. I didn’t want to betray your _trust_.”

That last word has venom in it. Becky blinks.

“Yeah,” Ruby says after a moment. “I noticed you, checking in with Anna. Nice to know you’ll take me at my word.”

Guilt burns in Becky’s chest.

“It wasn’t like that,” she says, weakly. “It’s just – the last demon I met was trying to kill me!”

Ruby glares at her with ink-black eyes she’s never seen before, and a shiver runs down Becky’s spine.

“No,” Ruby says slowly. “The last demon you met fell in love with you.”

Becky’s heart is pounding in her ears. Ruby turns and walks out the room, and it takes Becky a moment to remember how to follow.

“Wait –”

“Well, that was dramatic.” Meg is stood in the hallway, now fully clothed. In the moment it takes Becky to push past her, Ruby is already at the front door. Becky rushes down the stairs, but Ruby has already vanished from view.

“I suppose this is my cue to leave.” Meg grins. “Unless you’d rather I stick around?”

Becky glares at her.

“I suppose not.”

Becky doesn’t tear her eyes away until Meg is out the door. Then she redraws the broken line of the Devil’s Trap, sits down on the doormat, and starts to sob.

Two hours later, she sends a text message to the only three numbers in that phone’s contact list. It reads, simply: “I screwed up.”

 

About an hour after she sends the text, there’s a knock on the doorframe. Becky is stretched out on her bed, staring at the ceiling. When she doesn’t respond, Anna comes and sits beside her.

“Where’s Ruby?” Becky asks.

“At the motel room with Jo.”

“What about the shifter?”

“It can wait a couple of hours.”

Becky looks at Anna. Her mouth is set in a sharp line of disappointment, and Becky lets her head flop back against the mattress.

“This is all my fault.”

“That seems improbable.”

Anna’s calm, logical tone makes Becky wince. She only sounds like that when she’s forcing herself not to show emotion.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

In fits and starts, Becky explains the morning’s events. Anna doesn’t say another word until she’s finished.

“Why did it matter so much to you?” she asks then. “About Meg?”

“It shouldn’t have –”

“But it did. So, why?”

Becky clenches her jaw. “Meg killed Jo, and Ellen. She was on Lucifer’s side.”

“So was Ruby, and you’ve made your peace with that, just as Jo’s made her peace with Meg.” Anna frowns slightly. “Ruby didn’t lie. We’ve always known who she was working for, and what they were fighting for. We’ve helped them in the past.”

Becky doesn’t speak.

“I know you aren’t blindly prejudiced against all demons,” Anna continues. “So I can’t help but wonder what you felt was a worse truth than letting Ruby believe that you are.”

“I thought they’d slept together.” Becky’s made that clear already, but she knows that’s the heart of it.

“You were jealous.” Anna’s voice goes up slightly. “Knowing Meg, I’m sure she offered, but –”

“They didn’t.” Becky doesn’t doubt Ruby’s word on that for a second.

“Would you have cared if they had?” Anna asks. “You don’t mind sharing...”

“It’s different with you and Jo,” Becky says. “I get to share you too.”

“I highly doubt Meg would turn you down,” Anna observes.

“It’s not... I didn’t know it was Meg.” Becky takes a deep breath. “She was just someone I didn’t know, but it hurt. It felt like being cheated on.”

It had felt like she was being replaced.

“Which, naturally, put you in a poor state to take Meg’s change of heart on trust,” Anna concludes thoughtfully.

Anna vanishes, and a couple of seconds later, Ruby is stood in her place.

Becky sits bolt upright.

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I shouldn’t have said any of that, I was just –”

“I overreacted,” Ruby interrupts. “We both did.”

“I got jealous,” Becky confesses.

Ruby rolls her eyes. “No duh. Green eyed monster isn’t a good look on you, Becks.”

“She was in my bathroom wearing your robe. I panicked.”

“Meg does that kind of thing.” Ruby sighs. “Look, she’s a good general, and she’s hot as Hell, but she’s not _you_.”

Ruby says that like it’s obvious which is preferable, and it isn’t the one Becky would choose.

“I should have trusted you,” she says quietly. “I _do_ trust you.”

“Exclusivity is kind of a new act for me,” Ruby says. “But if – could we not break up over a mistake I _didn’t_ make?”

Becky frowns. “I don’t want to break up with you. I just don’t want there to be any mystery women in the bathroom.”

“I’m trying my best,” Ruby says, a little sharply.

“Or you could –” Becky swallows. “You could just ask, first.”

Ruby raises her eyebrows, and nods slowly.

“Yeah, I could do that.”

 

They clear the proposal with Anna and Jo and things return to their comfortable equilibrium, the four of them falling back into routine.

Becky doesn’t quite forget Ruby’s words, even though they were spoken in anger, and perhaps that has something to do with why one evening, exhausted and warm in an overcrowded bed, she mumbles “I love you” to no-one in particular and everyone all at once, and smiles herself to sleep.

Meg returns a few months later, needing asylum once more, and in the middle of the evening she strides into the library, puts her hands on her hips, and declares: “I want to get laid tonight, but Ruby won’t start without you. Are you coming?”

Ruby trails in after her a couple of moments later, looking too distracted to be properly annoyed, and Becky hesitates for just a moment before realising that while this isn’t what she asked for, that doesn’t mean it’s not what she wants.

“Hang on a minute.”

She reaches for her phone, ready to text Anna and Jo. She already suspects she knows what their answer will be, but it’s her rule and she’s sticking to it.

Meg rolls her eyes.

“Way ahead of you.” Ruby waves her own phone in Becky’s direction. “They say yes.”

Becky jumps up and kisses her, for the sheer joy of not having to wait.

“ _Finally_ ,” Meg says, heavily, leading the way to the bedroom.

Meg proves to be _inventive_ in ways Becky had never even considered before, and by the next morning she is intensely glad that things worked out the way they did. Ruby, from all evidence, agrees.

Meg apparently isn’t disappointed either, as she becomes a recurring feature. Becky can never quite work out how she gets into the house – she doesn’t seem to need letting through the Devil’s Trap, but when questioned, Meg will only smile and reassure her that nothing else nasty is getting in by her route. It takes a couple of visits for her to encounter Jo and Anna – and the first time she does, it’s tense, painfully so – but after a couple of months, she and Jo are civil, if not pleasant.

Not that anger doesn’t have its uses too, from what Becky’s seen of them together.

Meg is... not part of the group, not least because she’d spurn that position if she thought it was being offered. But she’s around, if infrequently, and – by general agreement of all parties – fair game for just about anything.

On rare occasions, she’ll even deign to be helpful.

 

Becky’s in the library when the doorbell rings. The sound makes her jump – Anna, Jo and Ruby have their own keys, so it’s not a sound she often hears. Besides, Anna and Jo are both beside her researching the strange symbol they ran into on their last hunt, while Ruby seems to have opted to spend the morning lounging around in front of the TV in a state of considerable undress.

Perhaps there’s a parcel in the mail for her that she’s forgotten about. She hurries to answer the door.

The woman on the other side greets her with a slightly dazzling smile.

“Um, hi?” she says brightly, tucking a strand of long, red hair behind one ear. “Sorry, but my friend and I got totally lost out here, and we were wondering if you could give us directions?”

Becky knows the area pretty well now, but this is the first time something like this has happened. The house isn’t on any major road, and it’s a long way from anything.

“You must be pretty lost to wind up here...” Becky says.

“We’re trying to get to, um, Pittsfield? Or maybe Plainfield... I have a map!”

She waves the piece of paper enthusiastically, and it folds open, billowing out until it’s big enough to envelop them both.

“Oh dear!” the stranger squeaks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to –”

“It’s fine,” Becky tells her. The woman’s anxiety is nearly enough to give her a panic attack in sympathy. She grabs hold of the map, and wrestles it back into a more reasonable size.

“Now, where did you need to get to?”

The stranger peers at the maps hopefully. “I had it a minute ago... it was somewhere around here?”

She waves her hand vaguely across approximately six counties.

“Are you sure?” Becky asks.

“... Maybe it was on one of the other folds?” she says weakly.

“Charlie?” An accented voice calls from the driveway. “Is everything alright?”

Becky glances up to see another strange woman – presumably, Charlie’s friend – striding towards them.

“It’s fine!” Charlie beams. “She’s giving us directions to... was it Plainfield or Pittsfield?”

“Neither,” the woman says gently, shooting Becky that slightly frazzled smile of ‘I’m sorry for making you put up with this.’ “We’re going to the Field Inn in Penndel.”

The place name still isn’t familiar to Becky, but at least it sounds definite.

“Look,” the woman says, “This isn’t my neck of the woods.” Becky would guess from her voice that she’s British. “And maps don’t seem to be working well for us... I don’t suppose you have a computer we could borrow for five minutes?”

Becky smiles. This is definitely a problem for the Internet.

“Just give me a minute to...” She ducks inside, closing the door to the living room and Ruby’s pants-optional television marathon. “Come in, you don’t have to wait outside!”

Charlie fumbles the map on her way through the door, and squeaks “sorry!” and ducks down to pick it up as Becky heads towards the stairs.

“Thank you so much for doing this,” Charlie’s friend says, pulling the door shut behind her. “Lovely place you’ve got here, it’s really –”

“Don’t even think about it.”

Jo is at the top of the stairs, her handgun trained on the British woman.

Charlie shrieks “Oh my God!”, throws her hands in the air and turns to Becky for reassurance, but Becky just backs slowly to the wall, getting out of Jo’s line of fire without distracting her attention. Charlie rushes to the opposite corner of the room, but Jo’s eyes don’t even follow her. The woman in the crosshairs goes very still.

“Please,” she says quietly. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Just don’t hurt us.”

“Stow the crap,” Jo tells her, moving slowly down the stairs towards Becky. Anna isn’t at her shoulder, which means she’s either waiting in the wings for the element of surprise, or alerting Ruby to the situation. Which means Jo doesn’t think she can handle the situation herself. None of which is good.

Becky swallows. Charlie stares at her, looking horrified, but Becky’s finding it hard to be sympathetic to a stranger when she knows that Jo thinks there’s danger here.

“Oh God, oh God, I’m going to die...” Charlie mutters to herself.

“It’s been a long time,” Jo says slowly. “Must be going on ten years now? I bet you don’t even remember me.”

“I’ve never met you before in my life,” the woman says slowly, but the hairs on the back of Becky’s neck rise up. She’s lying.

“Really? Cause I sure remember my momma chasing you out the door with a shotgun. You were bad news even by our standards. No-one likes a thief at their bar.”

Bela Talbot?

That _bitch_.

Becky should probably feel worse for going with her gut on this because she was wrong about Anna and Ruby and maybe even a little about Meg, but still. Bela Talbot.

Wasn’t she the one who gave Crowley the Colt? Is she still working for him? What does she want?

Bela smiles, and Becky can see she knows the game is up. “Jo Harvelle. Didn’t expect to see you here. I heard you were dead.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Oh, I was.” Bela lifts a hand towards Jo, and suddenly her eyes flick black. “Want to see what I learned along the way?”

In a blink of an eye, Anna is in the corner, pinning Charlie’s hands, and Becky’s stomach lurches with the knowledge that this can only end ugly.

“Stand _down_.”

Meg’s in the doorway through to the front room, with Ruby at her shoulder. Becky didn’t know she was in the house, but it’s been a long time since that news surprised her. The order makes Jo scowl, but after a moment, it’s Bela who lowers her hand.

“General Masters,” she says, politeness sounding forced.

“Agent,” Meg greets her in return. “Care to explain what you’re doing in my safe house?”

Bela’s eyes go wide for a second, but then she nods, businesslike.

“My job,” she says. “Becky Rosen has something Crowley wants.”

All eyes turn to Becky, and she can feel the sweat beading on her forehead.

 Meg smiles humourlessly. “Well, then you’d better fetch it for him.”

“No-one is going _anywhere_ until I know what’s going on,” Jo contradicts, and Becky has never felt more grateful in her life.

“Bela here is one of my double agents,” Meg explains reluctantly. “The best, actually.”

Ruby smirks. “She had no idea what she was walking into, or she would have brought better backup.”

Anna releases Charlie, who shrinks back into the corner.

“Got me over the Devil’s Trap, didn’t she?” Bela says. “I’m looking for information – a book, actually. Your eBay records suggest you’ve amassed quite a collection. Of course, there’s no indication of any other occupants.”

Bela tosses this out as though it’s obvious, but Becky realises with a sinking feeling that if Bela’s seen her eBay history, she should have had plenty of signs about Becky’s living arrangements. She’s never put much thought into what keeps Crowley’s demons from tracking Meg and Ruby back here, but it seems they’ve been thorough.

“This is about my library?” Becky asks, somewhat disbelieving. The books upstairs have a lot of useful information in them, but they’re just _books_ , and not even the most important ones at that. “You were going to steal one of my _research_ _books_?”

“There was a whole plan and everything,” Charlie adds helpfully, but she wilts a little when Meg’s gaze turns on her.

“Now, Jo, do be a dear and point that thing somewhere else?” Bela suggests. “I’d rather like to get what I came for.”

“Ask nice,” Ruby reminds her.

Bela smiles, and turns to Becky. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

“... I paid for those books.”

Bela sighs. “Give me half an hour. I can find the information I need and be on my way.”

Becky nods, and starts up the stairs with Bela following. Looking somewhat reluctant, Jo holsters her gun. Charlie trails after the three of them, looking a little surprised that no-one stops her.

Bela names a grimoire that Becky picked up online a few months ago, and she locates it quickly. Bela reads without seeming to notice Jo’s eagle-eyed stare.

“So... you’re human, right?” Becky says quietly to Charlie.

“Well, I’m not a demon,” Charlie says, nervously.

“That doesn’t really give me an answer,” Becky tells her.

Charlie swallows. “Yeah, I’m human. But I’ve kind of picked up some of this stuff. Here and there. I kept running into it and then... I ran into Bela.”

Becky nods. She can sympathise all too well.

“So, uh,” Charlie’s clearly searching for something to talk about. “What categorisation system do you use in here?”

“Mostly topical,” Becky says. “But it’s hard to classify... it’s more memory than anything else.”

“Have you considered a database?” Charlie asks. “I mean, paper’s all very good for the fourteenth century, but...”

“Actually, I’ve been trying to work something out.” Becky opens her laptop, pulling up the project. “I’m stuck for categories –”

“Ew.” Charlie leans over to look, then jerks away suddenly. “You use _Vista_? Surely someone in this house knows how to exorcise that thing.”

She starts wondering around the room, peering at the shelves, then pauses.

“If I touch, is she going to shoot me?”

Jo rolls her eyes. “Don’t try me.”

Charlie nods quickly. “Very much trying not to try you.”

She leaves through the books, keeping up a running commentary of “I suppose you keep these together for the vamp lore, but I’ve heard Honorius is better on shapeshifters, and ooh, where _did_ you get a copy of the Books of Pherion?”

She doesn’t seem to require much input from anyone else, but Becky isn’t going to turn down an opportunity to talk about this side of the job with someone who has more interest in the books themselves than their contents. And then, halfway round the room, Charlie freezes.

“Wait. Is that a Carver Edlund?”

“Yes...” Becky says, waiting for the ‘why do you read this trash?’

“You’ve _read_ them?”

“ _You’ve_ read them?”

Bela and Jo exchange a look.

“Well, I’m only on book fifteen, but – you know they’re real, right? I totally met Sam and Dean this one time...”

“Chuck Shurley was a prophet.”

That might have come out a touch too fangirl. Charlie blinks at Becky.

“No, an actual prophet, the books were a prophecy of Sam and Dean’s lives. We... kind of went out for a while.”

“You dated Carver Edlund? You actually _know_ him?”

Becky frowns.

“You haven’t reached Bad Day at Black Rock yet, have you?”

“...No?”

Becky points at Jo. “Book 24.” Then at Bela. “Book 47. First appearances in the series. Didn’t you know?”

Charlie blinks. “No way... This is just – I mean, those books are _kickass_.”

“What’s your favourite part so far?”

“Probably in the one with the scarecrow...”

About ten minutes later, Bela gets to her feet and says: “Sweetie? I’m off downstairs. Have fun.”

Neither of them really notice.

After about half an hour, Becky can’t possibly talk more without letting slip the spoilers which are fizzing on her tongue, and in the lull of silence which follows she realises that the entire house has gone quiet.

“Uh...” she says slowly. “Is it just me, or should there be more noise?”

Charlie smiles and blushes a little. “Yeah, Bela, um... your girlfriend was the blonde one with the gun, right?”

Now it’s Becky’s turn to blush. “Well...”

“Then which one – wait.” Charlie raises her eyebrows. “ _All_ of you?”

Becky nods shyly. She isn’t really used to having people like Charlie look at her like her sex life is impressive – but she kind of hopes she gets the chance to be.

“You’re not the jealous type are you?” Charlie sounds worried. “Cause Bela...”

“She hasn’t tried anything with anyone but Meg,” Becky insists.

Charlie looks dubious. “How do you know?”

There’s a knock on the door, and Anna’s voice calls: “Becky? There’s something we need to ask you!” She sounds a little out of breath.

Charlie’s eyes are as round as quarters.

Becky smirks. “ _That’s_ how I know.”

 

(The next morning, Becky finds a letter on the doormat addressed to her. The note inside reads

_Becky –_

_I’m sorry for the way I left things. It was never about you._

_I hope you’re happy where you are now._

_– Chuck_

In the kitchen, Bela is making pancakes with blueberry sauce, Charlie has Anna cornered talking ten to the dozen about angels in science fiction, and Ruby is toying with Jo’s hair where she’s stubbornly fallen asleep on the table. Meg passes Becky in the hallway, rolls her eyes and asks: “Are you planning to stand around all day, or are we going to eat soon?”

Becky smiles to herself, and thinks she wouldn’t change this for the world.)


End file.
